


Close Call

by slutbumwalla



Series: Safe [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky is Kind of a Creeper, Bucky is a cockblock, F/M, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Sassy Bucky Barnes, slightly silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutbumwalla/pseuds/slutbumwalla
Summary: In which Bucky is a little shit. Bit of a side story - this takes place between part 2 and part 3 of Safe . Sorry everything is so out of order, I'm just filling in story holes as they occur to me!Part 4 of Safe.





	

It had been years since Bucky had acted purely on impulse. He was unsettled to find himself compelled to do it now.

He didn’t take the train this time. Too many people could see him on a train. He took an untraceable car and drove it a few blocks from her house. He’d used satellite imagery to map a secure route over the rooftops.

He felt compelled to know she was safe.

She wouldn’t be attacked by the same guy who’d try to jump her before, he’d made sure of that. He’d gone back to the alley while she was in the hospital and trussed the guy up, delivering him like a mystery package outside the back entrance of the police station where, sure enough, they eventually matched his records to a string of local crimes.

In Bucky’s line of work, though, he knew that if you took one criminal down, more would pop up. He had to make sure she hadn’t been a target. She’d fought back too well to be a regular civilian, in his opinion, and it made him suspicious.

Those were his initial thoughts the first few nights he staked out her house. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. On the third day he pulled the trigger, dropping into her back yard after she left for work, poking around for signs of a security system. Her dog would yap, but he’d throw treats over the fence to the dog run and that would shut him up for a bit.

He found absolutely no trace of any security system, and was annoyed to find she didn’t even lock her patio door. The idiot woman had just been violently mugged, did she have no concern for her safety?

Bucky moved silently through the house, trying all the rooms, checking the closets for false backs. Her job, he knew, was in data analysis at some high-tech firm in the city. If she had any valuable information it would be data, which, admittedly, was not his area of expertise.

He was suspicious that she didn’t seem to have an office at home. There was a laptop at the side of her bed, but from what he knew, modern folk were obsessed with technology. There was a lack of visible gadgets in her home that make him certain she was hiding something. She must carry it with her…hence the mugging attempt during her commute back from the city.

Bucky retreated that day with no clear proof she was in danger, but mentally added her to the list of people he’d continue to survey.

*****

It was a few weeks before he’d been able to return his attention to her, this time he’d set up surveillance across from her office. He’d knicked a few gadgets here and there to do it, but that wasn’t something he had a problem with.

He checked the time and held up the digital binoculars to his face, knowing her window for leaving was wide and sporadic. Lately she’d been leaving late, but today was Friday and he knew civilians liked to cut out early.

His phone buzzed in his coat pocket and he took a moment to flick his eyes down. Steve.

“Hey, buddy, long time no see.” Bucky greeted him, smiling since they were fresh from an off-the-books mission. He continued to scan the people streaming from her building, comfortable that he had time.

Steve was checking in, updating him on the status of the legal complications that Steve was hoping would expunge Bucky's record as the Winter Soldier. Bucky didn’t have much faith, but he humored his friend. Steve had been able to extricate himself from his own vigilante excursion fairly quickly, but it pained him that he could walk around the streets a free man while Bucky couldn’t.

The binoculars beeped and Bucky hit the button to zoom, seeing that he’d missed her coming out of the building and cursing because she was hailing a taxi instead of walking her usual route to the train station.

“I’m on a mission, Stevie, I gotta go. Gonna miss my mark.” Bucky rung off before Steve had a chance to answer and hustled to track her progress from the rooftops. He noted the number of her taxi as it turned a corner and had no choice but to lose her for a bit as he leaped his way down a set of fire escapes into a deserted alley and hit the streets, trying to jog inconspicuously up the avenue she’d disappeared down.

Fortunately, traffic in New York came through for him. She was stuck in gridlock and he slowed his pace, pulling out some earbuds and keeping his head down as he tracked her, blending in with the pedestrians.

It was easy enough to follow her from there. Twenty minutes later the cab stopped at the curb of a restaurant and she got out.

Here Bucky stopped. He wasn’t dressed for swanky, and that place was swank. If he went in without a sport coat he was bound to stand out like a sore thumb, and then she’d spot him.

He did a little surveillance, making his way to the alley behind the restaurant and noting that it wasn’t likely to be one customers would leave through. Crates were stacked and staff was smoking, their crisp uniforms undone at the front so they could catch a little air. He circled back to the front, surveying the other businesses before finding his spot.

He was four stories high and the sun was setting, but he kept his vigil, binoculars trained on the door. He was patient through the first hour. The second hour his jaw started to tick. By the third hour he was mentally ranting to himself. What the hell could take so long? You order a few drinks, get your meal, bing, bang, boom, you pay your check and scram.

It was somewhere in the fourth hour and Bucky was unreasonably livid. He knew what was going on in there. He wasn’t stupid. Friday night was a dating night. He’d used to have them, himself. Of course he wouldn't hole up a dame in one location all night. You have dinner and drinks and then go dancing somewhere. Keeping a gal in the same place for four hours straight wasn't a date, it was a hostage situation.

His grip on the binoculars tightened as he finally saw you emerge, your arm in another man’s grip. It was a classic picture – your head was thrown back as you laughed. From his perch Bucky could see the long line of your neck as he took in your outfit for the first time, the coat you’d worn out of the office was now slung across your arm.

Deep V. Silk white button-down blouse tucked into a pencil skirt. Legs for days.

Bucky swallowed thickly, telling himself that he was dehydrated from his long stake-out. He watched eagerly as you hugged another woman and another man who’d emerged from the restaurant with you. You seemed to be saying goodbye and he held his breath…but no, the man who had your arm turned down the same street as you and you both walked off together.

Bucky stalked you both through the rooftops, ignoring the fact that this was seeming less and less like a typical surveillance mission. He gained the rooftop of a three-story building as you disappeared around a corner and chanced it, dropping straight down onto the sidewalk before looking around to see if anyone noticed. He skirted the corner and was now less than half a block behind you. He could hear your voices as you animatedly chattered and he tucked his chin into the collar of his jacket to hide his grimace.

You and your date stopped at a car and Bucky had to duck behind a set of steps to avoid being seen. He watched over the railing as your date opened your door for you and Bucky set his jaw. That bastard better not be driving you drunk.

He cast around, looking at his options. You and your date are just pulling out of your parking spot when Bucky busts the lock on a late model sedan, silencing the alarm swiftly before hot wiring it and carefully pulling out into the street, keeping a safe distance behind you as he trails you.

It’s late, and he’s working his lower lip between his teeth as he follows you, worried about what he might do if you stop at this guy’s apartment. Fortunately, he recognizes the roads as you pull out of the city and hit the highway towards your home.

He follows at a leisurely pace, telling himself the guy is just being polite, just driving you home so you don’t have to take a late train out of the city. It’s what the old Bucky would do, escort a girl home, make sure she was safe. He frowned as he thought about how he’d met you, had done the exact same thing. Huh. Maybe the old Bucky was coming back, bit by bit.

Bucky turns off at his designated spot, pulling the car into an inconspicuous place and making his way gingerly across his usual rooftop path towards your home.

Lights are blazing from your house by the time he gets there, and he hears music playing. He checks the front of your house and sees your date’s car in the drive. He makes a mental note of the plate before sneaking towards the back of your house, hoping to hear what’s going on through the back patio, but it’s shut.

He snorts. Yeah, the one time you’re concerned about your safety or privacy.

Remembering the layout of your house, he shuffles slightly to the side to listen through the open laundry room door.

There’s an immediate volley of barks, and Bucky scrambles back to hide before you pop your head out, shushing your dog. “Hey, stop ruining my date you jerk!” he hears you whisper warningly.

This gives Bucky an idea. He grins smugly as he makes his way back across his rooftop path, searching around until he finds something he saw earlier.

Stealthily hopping back towards your place, he carefully leans his head over the edge of your roof. Your dog has curled up by the door.

Bucky gives a soft whistle and dangles the yo-yo he found above your dog’s head.

The sound is piercing and urgent. Bucky retracts the yo-yo and hides again, trying not to laugh as he hears the door ripped open and another round of whispered scolding fall from your lips.

Bucky does this two or three more times, at set intervals designed to interrupt anything going on that, in his opinion, might be untoward. He’s rewarded by finally hearing your front door open and voices carry down the drive.

“Really so sorry, don’t know what’s got into him…” he hears you apologize and smirks at the strained tone in your dates voice as he assures you it’s alright.

Bucky stays long enough to hear your date start his engine and pull away. Before you have a chance to come around and let your dog back in he tosses a dog treat over the roof and whispers “Good boy" before fleeing.

The next day Bucky goes to the store and buys a couple more yo-yos and some better dog treats.

It’s rare in his line of work that he gets to have so much fun using his skills.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing. I love this Bucky.


End file.
